September Memories
by KairiMcEwin
Summary: In the middle of September, we still played out in the rain; nothing to lose but everything to gain. (Song-fic, USUK, Foster/Band AU, yaoi, one-shot, not my best work- it's just a little drabble I typed up. Read and Review if you'd like.)


The stage was dark, but the crowd was lit by phone screens and glowsticks. Happy chatter reached across the stage as people anticipated the mix-genre band of 'World Academy', who would be playing on that stage soon enough. Alfred Jones' blue eyes peeked out of the curtains at the stage and saw the thousands of people already there. Even though he knew trying to identify one face among so many was fruitless, he tried anyway. The lead singer's eyes flickered on every face in vain, hoping that he'd see familiar green eyes peering expectantly(and probably impatiently) back at him.

"Al, come on. You need to be ready." Matt's hand rested on his shoulder, the Canadian accent barely noticeable in his quiet voice. The bassist had his instrument strapped on, one hand on the neck of the guitar and the other shaking his twin's shoulder gently.

"R-right, comin'." Alfred took one last glance to the crowd before following his brother.

* * *

Go back thirteen years. A little six-year-old boy hugged a plush alien doll, his wide blue eyes peeping out of the car's window to watch the world pass by. His clothes were second-hand and his knee was covered by a band-aid. He wore a much-too big bomber jacket that practically drowned the tiny boy. On the seat beside him sat a worn duffel bag, filled with few possessions and mostly clothes. The tiny six-year-old's hair stuck up a little in front, no matter how often it was smoothed.

"When can I see Mattie, Miss?" the boy piped from the backseat to the driver.

"Your brother's been adopted; he's living in Canada now." The woman sounded very bored. "His new father is a french-speaking man but he does know English. He seemed very... nice." The little boy didn't know why her cheeks were red.

"But he's my brother. He's got to live with me."

"He lives with another family now."

"But why? He's my brother, he's got family!"

"You aren't old enough to care for him."

"That's not fair, I want Mattie to live with me!"

"The world isn't always fair, Alfred."

"The world needs a time-out." The boy drew back into sulking, kicking the back of the front seat.

* * *

"Mummy, is he here yet?"

"No, Arthur. Stop looking out the window and do your schoolwork," the woman scolded over her paperwork.

The British ten-year-old scowled, shuffling back to the kitchen table. The foster house was always littered with toys that the eldest boy kicked aside on his way to his studies, sitting down and picking up his pencil. Every so often his gaze was drawn to the window until he received a scolding look from the foster mother.

Once a car had pulled into the driveway, he hopped from his seat and ran to the door. He opened it to see the small boy hopping from the backseat with the stuffed alien. He blinked, thick eyebrows rising at the sight of the wide smile and bright blue eyes of the shorter boy.

"Hiya! This is my temporary home, right?" The boy bounced to the older one, looking up.

Arthur stared a little. "Temporary?"

"Yeah. And you're my temporary brother. My real brother's in Candy." The boy wore a frayed white-buttoned shirt under suspenders, a much-too-big jacket that was swallowing the tiny boy whole and pants that had dirt on them. "I'm Alfred, Alfred Jones! This is my best friend Tony," the boy declared, holding up the plush alien.

The older boy frowned. "A toy can't be your best friend, dolt!"

"Yeah-huh!" Alfred pouted. "Now tell me your name!"

The British orphan huffed. "I'm Arthur. Arthur Kirkland." He didn't like this scrawny kid very much.

* * *

"Artie!"

The boy turned in the woods, scowling at the hyperactive boy bouncing along the trail behind him. Of course, the stupid alien plush was in his arms. The autumn day was still warm, the sun golden on the burning reds and yellows of the leaves. "I told you to go home!" Arthur snapped, his schoolbag on his shoulder.

"But it's boring!" Alfred's bright blue eyes looked up to Arthur's annoyed green eyes. "I wanna know where you're goin'!"

"It's none of your bloody business." The Brit started to walk again.

"Pleeeeaaase?"

Arthur groaned. "Fine, you git, but if you tell anyone I'll put a spell on you just like Harry Potter."

"Okay!" The six-year-old beamed happily.

They clambered down the rocky path, the fallen leaves crunching in a crisp sound under their worn shoes. Neither orphan spoke, but they glanced at each other in a silent communication of 'watch out for that rock' and 'I'll be careful' among other exchanges. The birds twittered sharply in the high oaks, fluttering from branch to branch as the boys walked through the autumn afternoon forest.

Finally they had reached a small lake, a little boardwalk and pier standing guard over the glimmering fish and throaty frogs. Tall grass framed the clear water and brushed their ankles as the boys trudged to the boardwalk and stood looking out at the lake. The late-summer sun glinted off the gentle waters and reflected fish deep in the fresh lake.

"Wow, I can see fish!" Alfred knelt to peer into the water at the silvery fish below.

Arthur nodded. "I like to come here and think about my real mum. She used to draw lakes like this before she died," the boy said quietly.

Alfred looked up with innocent eyes. "I bet you she still likes to draw!"

The Brit scowled. "Don't you know what dead means?"

Jones nodded. "It's where your body's not working anymore, so you go to Heaven. I bet you she's talking with my Dad; he's a super-hero."

Both boys went quiet; one watched the fish while the other watched him. After that day, they had grown something together; it was friendship, something uncommonly trusting for two parent-less children. They had gone to the lake every day after that, talking about magic and super-heroes and everything in between.

"Iggy, I drew a picture of us!"

"W-wait, my name is Arthur!"

"But you're from England. Eng, Egg, Igg, Iggy!"

"That's stupid."

"No it's not!"

"It was bad enough that you called me Artie…"

"B-but…"

"Fine, fine, just don't cry, you prat."

"Okay!"

* * *

They were ten and fourteen, one skipping rocks into the lake as the other studied. Alfred had a pack of baseball cards in the pocket of the jacket that was much too big for him and a burger in his hand. Arthur wrote equations, his lip being chewed to pieces as his thick eyebrows furrowed. Alfred's book was about UFOs and alien life, which had gotten dirty glares from the British orphan.

"Hey, Iggy, are you gonna come to my little league game?"

"I can't, I've got an essay to do."

"Oh…"

"Well… maybe next time I can."

"Yeah!"

* * *

"Another fight?" The sixteen-year-old orphan sighed, bandaging a cut on the twelve-year-old's cheek. They sat cross-legged on the dock, Arthur tutting softly and Alfred wincing from the many bruises. An open first aid kit and their bags sat beside them as the Brit patched his foster brother up. The afternoon was warm with the oncoming autumn, and the fish were lively in their world.

"It ain't like it's my fault they jumped me!" The blue-eyed boy winced, pulling away from his friend's hand. "Hey, that hurt! Gentle, dude!"

Arthur scowled. "If you just kept quiet, maybe this wouldn't happen." He brushed his messy hair from his eyes and set to fixing the skinned knee.

"I'm not gonna stand by when I'm being ribbed on, dude." Alfred pouted like a child, his still-too-big jacket swallowing his hands. He had begun to grow, and was now about Arthur's height. "Besides, they were pickin' on the new kid in our house, that Italian guy. Poor kid was cryin' cause they called him a girl."

"You always have to save someone, don't you?"

"He's only ten, they were pushing him around!"

"Just try to stay in one piece." Arthur smoothed the younger's hair, frowning. "I don't need you going into the hospital; she won't be able to pay for it."

"It's not like she pays much for us," Alfred mumbled, glowering at the thought of the foster mother.

Arthur shook his head. "She gives us a home."

"And what a home, huh? She and this month's man are always arguing."

"Alfred, that's rude-!"

"It's true, dude."

The Brit sighed. "I suppose… but don't say that at home."

"Sure." Alfred quieted a little as Arthur kept fixing him up. Thoughts seemed to chase each other in his sky-blue eyes before Alfred leaned forward and kissed Arthur on the lips. The kiss was soft, sweet and chaste; it made the younger's stomach fill with butterflies.

The other blond had yelped, pulling back in surprise. He hadn't expected that at all, his cheeks burning from the move. "W-what the bloody-?!"

"I just wanted to be sure." Alfred smiled. "And I think I'm definitely certain, now. Everyone is right, I'm gay."

Arthur stared for a bit, before he turned his head to hide his blush. "You git, you should have just asked…"

Alfred blinked. "Does that mean you're gay, too?" The boy lit up in joy at the revelation.

"W-what makes you say that?"

"You're blushin'."

"It's warm out, that's all."

"Sure, that's gotta be why you're blushin' like a teen girl."

"Shut it, you bloody prat."

Alfred smiled and hugged Arthur tight. "We'll both keep each other's secret, then, kay?"

"Fine, just let me go."

"Pinky promise?"

"Alright, alright."

* * *

"Alfred, the sky's clouded, it'll rain!"

"So what? We've gotta get to the lake, I left Tony there!"

"Honestly, I thought you'd grow up…"

"Come on, Iggy, hurry!"

"If it rains, I'll kill you!"

"Iggy, if you wanna beat the rain ya gotta be faster!" The thirteen-year-old hopped down on the steep, rocky trail. He looked back at the lagging seventeen-year-old with a grin. "Are you getting old already?"

"Shut it, git!" Arthur caught up with Alfred, panting a little. "I don't know how you stay so energetic, with all of those unhealthy burgers…" It was true; the younger orphan loved his part-time job at McDonald's and spent money for a large meal to all of the kids in the foster home- well, except for the oldest. He absolutely hated the 'heart attacks on a bun', and Al never ceased teasing him about it.

"C'mon!" Alfred took Arthur's hand and led him to the dock, where the ratty plush sat propped up against a weather-worn bucket. "Here he is!"

"Why do you still keep that stupid doll, anyway?" Arthur crossed his arms.

"My dad gave him to me on me and my brother's third birthday. Matt got a bear, and I got Tony." Alfred carefully placed the alien into his messenger bag. "Besides, you still sleep with that bunny." He meant the pale-green bunny plush that Arthur had had since he was very small.

"T-that's not the point, I don't carry him everywhere!"

Suddenly the looming dark clouds opened up with their downpour. Alfred laughed at Arthur's 'drowned cat' look, shrugging off his over-sized coat and covering both of their heads. They shuffled to the old shed a little walk away from the pier and hid inside, one grinning and one scowling.

"You git, I told you it would rain!"

"So what if we get a little wet?" Alfred draped his coat over Arthur's shoulders and set down his bag. To Arthur's shock, Alfred walked out into the pouring rain with a laugh. "Life's about walking in the rain, Iggy! We gotta brave the storm if we're gonna get ahead, dude!"

The Brit's jaw hung for a few seconds. "You git, you're going to get an earful from Ms. Foss!"

"So? The memory's gonna be worth it. C'mon, let's dance!"

Arthur stared before sighing. "Just this once, you bloody prat." He set aside the coat and his own schoolbag, walking out into the rain with Alfred. "We might as well continue your waltz practice; that breakdancing nonsense you like so much is quite unrefined."

Alfred smiled, taking Arthur's hand and leading him back to the dock. "One day I'll be in a famous band, and we'll breakdance at every show."

"The day you become famous, I'll eat McDonald's."

"Shake on it?"

"Why not? I doubt you could be as great as the Beatles."

"You'll see."

* * *

"Iggy?"

The eighteen-year-old turned to see the fourteen-year-old foster teen at the end of the trail. Arthur had his backpack slung on his shoulders and a large duffel bag sitting at his feet, a worn green rabbit plush's head poking out of the bag. Alfred took in the sight of the huge duffel bag and his smile fell. The September breeze passed between them as though they stood on opposite sides of a chasm.

"Alfred… well, I'm eighteen. I'm not in the foster system anymore." Arthur turned his gaze back to the lake.

"Do you have to leave…?" Alfred strode forward, his hand taking Arthur's as he stood beside the other blond on the dock. His hand was squeezed back, gently and comfortingly. The grey skies hovered overhead threateningly.

"I can't stay there. I have to go to college; once I save up I'll come back, I promise."

"But… what about me? And Peter and Feli?"

"If I go to college, I can get a job and rent a house for all of us to live in."

"Iggy… take Tony, okay?" Alfred pulled the old plush from his bag. Its large, beady eyes had a faded sense, but it had been well taken care of.

"What?" Arthur blinked, staring at the odd doll.

"I don't want you to forget me. Just take good care of him…"

"Alfred, I can't… your dad gave you this."

"But…"

Arthur sighed. "How's about this, then." He pulled out the rabbit, smiling. "We make a trade. That way, we'll have to find each other again. It'll be like borrowing them."

Alfred grinned. "Pinky promise?"

"Of course, you git."

Each plush went into the other bag, just as the first raindrop hit Arthur's head. "Bloody hell, the shed! It's about to rain!"

They ran to the shed, laughing together as the downpour began. Memories of dancing in the rain chased their happy glances to each other, and Alfred helped to set down their bags. He gave a great, sweeping bow to Arthur, grinning handsomely. "May I have this dance?"

Arthur took the American's hand, and they set to dancing in the downpour. Their feet chased each other in a beautiful waltz on the wet wood of the boardwalk, and their hands touched before the chasm could pull them apart and swallow their hearts. Arthur rested his head on Alfred's shoulder; the younger orphan had grown a head taller than the Brit. They clung together as they danced in the rain for the last time. They clung together as the earth crumbled beneath them. They clung together, wishing that this memory would last forever in their hearts.

But like every beautiful rain, there had to be a time for it to end.

* * *

Alfred fell back onto the tattered couch, sighing. The Vargas brothers were at it again, arguing about how the chord in the newest song was supposed to be. The American knew it would end with the younger of the twins hugging the older or the band's Russian bodyguard, Ivan, breaking it up with a chilling smile. Gilbert, the band's drummer, was pestering his brother and the band's other guard, Luddy, to go out for a round of drinks. The band's self-appointed 'fashion manager', Francis, was sitting with Alfred's twin brother and the Spaniard guard Antonio while rambling about the tour's outfit choices.

Alfred gazed around, wishing there was another addition to their band. But he hadn't seen his Brit since he was fourteen, on that September day five years ago. The singer had, never-the-less, left one ticket on hold for someone important. Before every show, Alfred sent out a tweet to hopefully remind that person that the ticket was there.

'Hey, guys! The next show's at –fill the blank–, and I just wanted to remind someone important that I've got a ticket waiting for him. I haven't forgotten our promise.'

* * *

Alfred peeked out the curtain before the concert started. There was a new addition to his outfit that day; a well-worn green rabbit held to his pants by the belt around the plush's middle. The smaller-than-usual venue was a special request from the lead singer; it was the closest big-name stage to the man's old foster home. It was closest to the lake.

He had a special song picked out, specifically to play at this concert. He prayed beyond everything that the song's intended audience member was there.

Matt; bassist, to the left of the stage. Feliciano; lead guitar, to the right. Gilbert; drummer, to the back. Alfred; lead singer at the front.

They opened like always, but half way through the singer held up a hand. "Let's break away from the usual, here. Uhm, I guess you can all see this rabbit here, right? This concert… is really important, because it's close to where I met someone who meant the world to me. I'm hoping he's here tonight…" Alfred swallowed and smiled nervously, picking up an acoustic guitar. "Iggy, wherever you are… I hope you can hear me."

**"How the time passed away? All the trouble that we gave,  
And all those days we spent out by the lake,  
Has it all gone to waste? All the promises we made,  
One by one; they vanish just the same…"**

Alfred forced himself to sing; it was hurting in his heart, to lay bare his memories for anyone to read and stare at. But he felt glad, because Arthur would read them, too.

**"Of all the things I still remember,  
Summer's never looked the same;  
The years go by and time just seems to fly,  
But the memories remain,**

**In the middle of September, we'd still play out in the rain;**  
**Nothing to lose but everything to gain,**  
**Reflecting now on how things could've been,**  
**It was worth it in the end…"**

The song kept on, and Alfred's eyes searched the crowd for the _slightest_ hint of thick eyebrows and piercing green eyes. For that annoyed and blushing face to peer back at him as though to say, 'if you do this again, I will kick your arse into next September'. Alfred sang his heart out.

It wasn't until the final chords that Alfred noticed a commotion in the center of the mosh pit in the venue. Someone seemed to be pushing through the squealing girls and glow sticks, a black hoody obscuring his face. There was enough of a gap between the people to see a worn, plush alien head sticking out of the pouch.

Alfred froze, his heart stilling in pure hope and joy. The glow sticks lit up an annoyed face, one with the most familiar green eyes. Alfred set aside the guitar, standing up to hop from the stage to find the owner of the hoody.

"Arthur!" Alfred tried to see past the fans, whom had graciously moved aside for him. "Iggy!"

The older man stumbled into the clearing of people, grumbling. "Bloody women, they can't just move… I swear I'll kill that git for forcing me to come here and embarrassing me…!"

Alfred burst into a smile, rushing to the man and pulling him up into a hug. "Thank you… thank you, I missed you…" He buried his face into Arthur's shoulder, shaking uncontrollably.

The Brit froze up before he awkwardly returned the hug. "Can you stop hugging me in public, you prat?"

"Nope."

"At least, I never want to hear that song in front of a hundred people again."

"No can do. It's on the next album."

"I swear to god, I should have killed you when I had the chance."

"I love you, too. Didja remember our promise?"

"… fine. I'll eat that greasy heart attack."

"We can split a burger."

There was a swell of clapping around the two men. Arthur had come home; the man that Alfred had fallen in love with on that September day, when they were small.

* * *

**[A/N]: This was just a drabble I had started. I wasn't really seriously writing it, but I figured that I might as well post it. I have too many old, crappy fics up on this account and I wanna put up more of my newer stuff. This is my third Hetalia fanfiction, and my second Hetalia one-shot. I hope y'all like it! I've been in a writing mood, so I'm sort of spamming this fandom. Heh, sorry. I hope you liked it, even if it's kinda half-hearted.**


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